


Time in a bottle

by fiireside



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: 100 Ways to Say I Love You Writing Challenge, Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, but not all 100
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 23:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiireside/pseuds/fiireside
Summary: the story of Alex and Miles’ relationship, told through the myriad of ways to say “I love you” without using such words
Relationships: Miles Kane/Alex Turner
Comments: 21
Kudos: 99
Collections: Milex Big Bang 2019





	Time in a bottle

**Author's Note:**

> for the ~ **milex big bang** ~
> 
> prompted by the list of 100 ways to say i love you
> 
> the little vignettes are all in chronological order, beginning w the first show am and miles' band had together in 2006 and ending circa sept 2019 ;)
> 
> title is from a jim croce song cos the lyrics are so beautifully applicable, but personally i’m referencing the lykke li cover bc it’s amazing, and bc alex loves lykke li…… levels to this love
> 
> enjoy!

**~**

**“Take my jacket, it’s cold.”**

Alex jumps when he hears the door creak open beside him. He’s in the back alley of the venue him and the Monkeys just played at, some small but very crowded club in London he can’t recall the name of. He came out here to escape the noise and people all seeking out his attention, and just hearing the door open makes his blood surge in his veins. He knows he’s being anything but rational right now, getting angry at someone _daring_ to also come out into the public alleyway while he’s here, but—

“Hey, mate,” a familiar Scouse accent comes. Alex’s anger suddenly vanishes without a trace, and it startles him how quickly it goes. It’s Miles. Miles of the Little Flames. The band that’s begun touring with them. Miles who he has very quickly become very fond of. Miles who presently is staring at him in the dim streetlights with lively, friendly eyes.

“Hey,” Alex responds, his voice coming out a bit breathless. He curses himself for sounding like that. He honestly doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, but every time he’s around Miles, this ball of… anxiety? excitement? joy? nerves? forms in his chest, making it hard for him to focus on anything that isn’t Miles. It frustrates him to no end this strange, inexplicable effect Miles has on him. But he enjoys Miles’ company too much to care.

“Your band were lookin’ for you,” he tells him nonchalantly, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and popping one into his mouth, casual as anything. Alex’s eyes get stuck on the cigarette sat between his lips, only further drawn in when Miles flicks the lighter and brightens the space in front of his mouth for that brief second.

Miles draws in a long breath and exhales the smoke, lips pursed in that tantalizing way smoking does. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, or rather how much time has gone by since Miles said something to him and how long he’s been staring at Miles like a fucking maniac.

“You want one?” Miles asks when Alex’s gaze doesn’t move. Alex blinks, snapping out of the weird trance he’d gone into, shaking his head and looking away. “Suit yourself. Good show tonight, mate. These crowds love you lads.”

“Thanks,” Alex says quietly. “Still a bit nerve wracking, to be honest.”

“I can imagine,” Miles sympathizes, pausing to take another drag of the cigarette. “You guys are blowing up. Whole world’s looking to have a piece of ya.”

Alex doesn’t quite know what to say. Miles says all this, and yet he treats him and his friends like the most normal people in the world. Not even Miles’ bandmates treat them quite the same as Miles. No, with Miles, Miles is so nonchalant about their sudden rise to stardom that it seems he almost doesn’t care. It just feels like he’s a natural fifth to their quartet, an equally talented and driven musician, starting out and looking to find their footing. Miles treats them the way they should be treated – as normal, awkward, stupid nineteen-year olds. Alex feels so _normal_ around Miles, which is becoming harder and harder to find in people, and he can’t get enough of it.

“You deserve it though,” Miles continues, unbothered by Alex’s silence. “The success, I mean. You’re incredible, the lot of you.”

“Thanks, Miles,” Alex repeats. “You’re… you’re rather incredible yourself.”

The corner of Miles’ mouth quirks up at that. “Is that so?” he says teasingly. He keeps dragging the cigarette, and Alex can’t help but notice how much of it Miles has smoked through. “I’m rather flattered that Alex Turner of the Arctic Monkeys thinks I’m incredible.”

“Piss off,” Alex snarls. A sharp gust of wind comes rushing down the alley, prickling at Alex’s skin through his thin shirt. Miles notices instantly; the smoke of his cigarette gets blown into Alex’s face, and Alex makes a bit of a fuss over it.

“Sorry,” he says, taking one last drag before stomping out his cigarette. “You warm enough in that?”

“Yeah, it was just the breeze,” Alex answers. “I’m gonna head back in, so it’s—”

“Here,” Miles interrupts, sliding his jacket down off his arms, holding out to Alex. “Take my jacket. It’s gotten a bit chill out here.”

“Miles, I don’t…,” Alex starts, unsure how to respond. He reaches tentatively towards the jacket and decides to take it when Miles doesn’t falter, instead urging Alex once more to take it from him. Alex slips it on, instantly overwhelmed by the scent of Miles now cloaking him. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Miles says with a smile on his face that makes Alex’s heart stutter. “Hm. You look quite fit in it.”

And with that, Miles turns on his heel, opening the door he came out from and holding it open for Alex like the gentleman he apparently is.

**~**

**“I’ll walk you home.”**

“You really shouldn’t, Miles,” Alex says as he shrugs his coat on. “I’m not going far, I’ll be fine.”

“C’mon, Al, let me walk you home,” Miles insists, flashing a smile to the bartender when they slide his card back to him. He shrugs his fluffy coat on seconds after Alex does. “Getting tired here anyways. No offense to yer mates or anything.”

“I’m leaving them, too,” Alex reminds him, suppressing a laugh. He can tell Miles, the life of every party, _hasn’t_ been bored – in fact, he’s been having a stellar time getting to know Alex and the rest of the Monkeys all evening. However, the second Alex announced that he’d be heading home, Miles’ face had dropped ever so slightly, and he quickly offered to walk Alex home. “None taken. Besides, don’t look like we’ll be missed much.”

He gestures over to where they’d previously been sitting, their seats already filled with three women Alex does not know, but are all over Nick, Matt, and Jamie. Miles snorts. “Seems that way,” he chuckles. “You ready then?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, and with that they exit the bar. It’s cold outside – the sharp, early spring air hitting them instantly and nipping at Alex’s face, turning his nose and cheeks red. He tries not to put too much thought into how close him and Miles are walking next to each other, their arms brushing as they go.

They walk silently for a block or two before Miles slings his arm around Alex’s shoulder, pulling him even closer. Alex can’t help but burrow instantly into Miles’ side. For warmth, of course. Or so he tells himself.

“I noticed you’re wearing the polo neck I gave you for Christmas,” Alex mentions, breaking the quiet that had come over them. Miles chuckles and lifts his free hand to tug at the collar of it.

“It’s quite nice,” Miles says. “Very warm. You should’ve worn your matching one.”

“Didn’t know you’d be wearing it, now did I?” Alex shoots back.

“What happened to our telepathy?” Miles plays. Alex shoves him lightly and they both break out into a fit of laughter. “We could’ve looked like a proper album cover.”

“Next time,” Alex muses, leaning his head on Miles’ shoulder for a second, unable to help himself. He’s drunk, it’s cold, Miles is warm, and he can’t help it.

“You ever thought about writing tunes with someone who aren’t your childhood friends?” Miles asks bluntly after a minute goes by. The words almost seem condescending, but something in Miles’ tone tips Alex off to the fact that he doesn’t seem to be asking the question he really wants the answer to.

“Maybe, I dunno,” Alex answers in a much more serious tone than before. “I quite like making music with them. It’s… easy, and I feel comfortable in a group. I don’t know how I’d really do with someone I don’t know so well.”

“Hm,” Miles hums, but says nothing more. Alex stares at the side of his face for a minute.

“Why do you ask, Miles?” he asks after he decides Miles is taking too long to respond. He seems to ignore Alex at first, but then he sighs and looks over to make eye contact with Alex.

“Sometimes…,” he starts, and Alex can almost see the gears clicking in his head as he thinks. “Sometimes I think it’d be fun for you and me to do something together. But I would never want to take you away from your band. I know how much you love them.”

“Oh,” Alex whispers. How could Miles think the two of them working together would be “taking him away” from his band? Why does he sound so guilty in the way he’s asking? “Mate, I’d love to make something with you. We already have some lyrics, or a guitar riff here and there. You’re my friend, too. If it weren’t already obvious, I’m quite comfortable around you as well.”

“I know,” Miles says as they turn a corner. Alex can see his hotel only another block down. “Just wanted to float the idea, see what you thought.”

Alex nods. He tucks himself further into Miles’ side, wrapping his own arm around Miles’ waist as they continue walking, once more in silence. When they reach the front door to Alex’s hotel, Miles moves to let go of him, but Alex holds his grip.

“You can come up, if you want,” Alex offers. “I’ve got Jamie’s guitar as well, so there’s summat for both of us to play.”

Miles smiles widely. “I’d love that,” he says. Alex beams brightly at him and lets go of him only to take his hand, leading the way into the lobby, the elevators, and then his hotel suite.

**~**

**“You can tell me anything.”**

“She’s great, Al,” Miles tells him later in the day, after Alexa is long gone off to some shoot, or meeting, or whatever – Alex can’t keep track of it all –, and him and Miles have returned to Alex’s new London flat. “Stunning, sharp, funny. You have my ‘best friend’ seal of approval.”

“That means a lot, Miles,” Alex says quietly, studying Miles’ face. He’s been off today – seemingly fine this morning, and while they had lunch with Alexa, but then after he turned somber and almost fussy. Which Miles never is. Somber or fussy. He’s usually a radiant, infectious ball of energy that Alex never tires of.

He just nods curtly in response, playing with a loose thread on his shirt. Alex doesn’t really know what to say. Or do. He’s never seen Miles quite like this. “Are you okay?” he asks. Miles’ head shoots up and he stares at Alex with wide eyes.

“Huh?” he sputters. “Yeah. Of course, yeah. Sorry. I’m fine.”

“Miles…,” Alex says. There’s something in Miles’ eyes today that just has him worried, and for the life of him he can’t place his finger on what it is. It upsets him to see Miles clearly so upset about god only knows what, and he wants to be able to help in any way he can – Miles just won’t let him. “What is it? You… you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Miles looks away and mumbles something under his breath Alex can’t fully make out. “I know,” he then says more clearly. “It’s nothing, ‘lright? I swear.”

“You’ve just seemed really down, is all,” Alex says, scooting incrementally closer to Miles on the settee. Alex thinks he may be imagining things, but it almost seems Miles tenses when he does so. “I don’t like seeing you this way.”

“Alex,” Miles starts in a much more serious tone. “There are just things… you don’t know about me, I guess. Things I don’t really know how to talk about. And I’d never want to burden you with my problems anyways. It doesn’t matter. Please.”

Alex bites at his lip, now even more curious about what has Miles in this mood. Things he doesn’t know about Miles? Sure, there’s probably a bit – they may be close, but they haven’t even known each other two years, so there’s likely many things they just haven’t told the other. But what could Miles have not told him that has him so worked up? What would Miles deliberately keep from him like this? Alex can’t understand the way Miles is behaving, especially when he seemed so fine earlier in the day.

“Did I do something?” he blurts out, unable to control his spiraling train of thought. “I mean – you were fine when we met up this morning. And then we hung out, and you met Alexa, and now… um, well, now you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“No, Alex,” Miles insists firmly, instantly. “It’s not you. You didn’t do anything, I promise.” A long sigh, and then he pinches the bridge of his nose before continuing, no longer looking at Alex and instead off into space. “I’m worried if I say what I want to say it’ll change how you see me.”

“What?” Alex asks incredulously. “Miles, what does that mean?”

“Nothing, Al, okay?” he suddenly snaps. “Please. Drop it. I don’t want to talk about it. Just— I can’t, alright? I’m not ready to talk about it and I just need you to respect that.”

Alex is stunned into silence. Miles has never raised his voice at him before, and Alex feels it in every fiber of his being. He feels like ice water was just injected directly into his veins.

“Okay,” Alex says meekly. “Sorry. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Fuck, Al, I’m sorry,” Miles says, head in his hands. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I shouldn’t be acting like this. Look – it’s my problem, you did nothing, you’re my best friend and I appreciate you trying to help, but… it’s not something you can really help, alright? Let’s just… let’s listen to something. I’ll tell you everything eventually, I swear.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” he says quietly. “I’ll go grab a record.”

He stands to leave the room, utterly confused and concerned about what just happened. Little does he know that Miles is upset not because of anything Alex or Alexa did, but just the mere fact Alexa is now in Alex’s life. Miles can’t say it yet because he hasn’t found the strength in himself to admit it, but he’s very much into Alex in a very non-platonic way, and he can sense it’s not going to get any easier from here.

**~**

**“Can I kiss you?”**

Maybe it’s something in the air, maybe it’s all the wine, or maybe it’s the close quarters putting him and Miles in each other’s personal space every second of every day, but Alex can’t remember the last time he ever felt this at ease around someone.

Even Miles. There’s no doubt they’re best friends at this point, but up until now, now that they’re in France, recording an album, living together and never leaving each other’s side, they’d still felt like new friends. Not to say Alex didn’t enjoy being around Miles – quite the contrary – but now… well, he can’t place a time he ever felt like this around someone. He doesn’t even know how to explain what _this_ is, but it fills him with warmth, with nerves and with joy, and he knows that he never wants it to end.

Tonight is like any other night in their French countryside domestic bliss – they wrapped up at the studio, went out for dinner with James and Owen, all returned and began drinking and unwinding, and now it’s just Alex and Miles, half a bottle of wine, and the fresh, breezy air all around them. They’re sat against the stone wall of the house in the grass, Alex’s back to Miles’ chest, Miles’ arms around Alex and nose in his hair. It’s dangerous, being in a position like this.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” Miles says into Alex’s hair. Alex smiles where Miles can’t see when Miles goes on. “This album. It feels like a dream to get to make it with you like this.”

“I know,” Alex responds simply, leaning further into Miles’ embrace, placing one of his hands overtop Miles’ against his stomach. “I love doing this with you, Miles.”

Miles just hums and closes his eyes, leaning onto Alex. “Do you want to go in?” Miles asks after a moment.

“Mm, not yet,” Alex says, turning around so they’re now facing each other, legs bracketing the other. “I like bein’ close to you. Don’t wanna give it up yet.”

Miles can smell the wine on Alex’s breath, and feel its effects in his own body, so he tries desperately not to read into Alex’s words, no matter how much they make his heart pound against his ribcage. “You’re beautiful,” he can’t stop himself from saying. It’s the truth, to be fair. Alex _is_ beautiful. Especially right now, in the dim moonlight, their foreheads practically pressed together. Miles can make out every detail of his face – the hair falling into his face, his thick eyelashes, those huge eyes Miles could get lost in for days, the freckles beneath his mouth, the scar on his eyebrow – and he has to say, he _also_ likes being close to Alex.

“You are,” Alex practically breathes back. They keep staring at each other like this in what is maybe the most charged moment of Miles’ life thus far. Alex reaches up to push a hand into Miles’ hair, and Miles once again can’t stop his mouth from speaking.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, shocking himself, and surprised he’s even able to say it with how his heart is in his throat. He doesn’t have time to regret it though, because Alex’s mouth is on his so fast it knocks the wind out of him. His lips are soft, gentle, and eager, and it’s everything Miles thought it would be and more. The fingers in his hair tighten and Miles’ hands find Alex’s waist, pulling him even closer so their bodies are almost pressed together. It’s a moment Miles can barely believe is real and absolutely never wants to stop.

Alex pulls back far too soon for Miles’ liking, at which point they’re both nearly panting against each other’s lips. Alex starts giggling that endearing goat laugh of his that makes Miles’ heart flutter in his chest every time, and Miles joins in, laughing alongside him in one of their nicest harmonies yet. When Miles leans in to kiss Alex again, he swears the ground lets out from under them, and it’s just the two of them floating through the universe.

**~**

**“I made your favorite.”**

Miles wakes up in an empty bed.

Usually, Alex is the one to sleep in – after all, he’s the one who has problems sleeping, who lives most of his life after the sun has gone down – so it’s rare when he gets up first. The other bed Alex has abandoned in favor of sharing Miles’ bed is cold and pristine, a sharp contrast to the heat Miles is radiating into the covers and sheets of their now shared bed.

He pushes them off him and sits up, running a hand over his face and absorbing more of his surroundings. He notices that the air smells faintly like coffee. Miles can picture it now, Alex at the kitchen table in his sleep attire, coffee in hand, sleeves covering his fingers, hair ruffled and eyes soft, and it makes him smile for a minute.

But of course, Miles’ imagination could never compare to the real thing. After he brushes his teeth and pads his way into the kitchen, he’s greeted by the warmest sight, the sight he never wants to stop seeing. Alex is in front of the stove, in a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of Miles’ trackie bottoms, singing quietly to himself. Miles heart practically implodes with love when Alex notices his presence and turns to him with a wide smile on his face, eyes bright, hair indeed ruffled and curly.

“Good morning,” he says in an almost sing-song tone, turning his head to give Miles a bright smile that makes his heart flutter in his chest.

“Good morning to you too,” Miles says as he approaches Alex, coming up behind him with his hands lightly on his waist. “Didn’t expect you to be up already, least of all making breakfast.”

Alex scoffs, leaning into Miles’ touch as he does so. “I made your favorite,” he says. Miles hums and nuzzles his nose into the crook of Alex’s shoulder.

“You’re like a personal chef,” Miles jokes, making Alex giggle. Miles has barely even processed what Alex is making – he can see now that Alex is making scrambled eggs with all the fixings, and to be honest, they look delicious. Miles is suddenly ravenous as the smell wafts into his nose.

“Well, it’s almost done,” Alex tells him. “Would you mind pouring the coffee?”

“Of course,” Miles answers, kissing Alex’s jaw before letting go of him to do as he was asked. They continue moving about in their domestic bliss, Miles pouring coffee into two mugs and Alex scraping the eggs onto two plates, and then meet each other at the kitchen table.

Miles sits first, inadvertently letting Alex place the plate directly in front of him like a restaurant server. He takes a sip of his coffee as Alex sits down next to him, a smile on his face as he watches Miles, holding his face in his own hand.

“Thanks, Al,” Miles says after a moment. Alex blinks as if coming out of a trance and just smiles a little more as Miles takes his first bite.

**~**

**“Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”**

“Miles, please, I’m _fine_,” Alex insists – though his red nose, washed out skin, and scratchy voice all beg to differ. He knows Alex is stressed about releasing the album, now that they’re a few months out from when they recorded it, and he’s sure that’s part of why he’s even more insufferable to deal with today. The nerves and stress combined with the illness are clearly doing him no favors. He pushes weakly at Miles’ hand when it comes up to rest on his forehead, checking his temperature in the most irritating of ways to Alex.

“Al, you’re ill,” Miles says as he detracts his hand. Even if Alex doesn’t have a temperature, it’s clear he’s sick, and Miles for the life of him cannot understand why Alex won’t let him take care of him. Seeing Alex feel this terrible – even if he won’t say it – puts fuel to the fire Miles always feels towards protecting Alex, making him want to do nothing but swaddle Alex until he’s better. The problem is, Alex’s pride won’t let him be swaddled, and so they find themselves here.

Alex groans and leans his head back against the sofa cushion behind him. He hasn’t gotten dressed today, still in a loose t-shirt and a pair of sweats. His hair is greasy, and he’s been in the same spot on the settee since he got out of bed hours ago, which is how Miles knows he isn’t feeling well. Alex is nothing if not restless when he’s not on tour or actively recording in the studio; he spends days bouncing between instruments, his notebook, Miles’ arms, his bookshelf, wherever. Even on his days off, he doesn’t seem to take a break. It’s rare he stays in one spot all day like this.

Miles reaches up again and tentatively pushes his fingers into Alex’s hair, scratching at his scalp. Alex hums seemingly unknowingly and closes his eyes, leaning towards Miles as he does so. Miles just takes that as a sign he can curl his other arm around Alex, effectively pulling him into his chest.

“I want to help, Al, that’s all,” Miles whispers as he continues running his hand through Alex’s hair. Alex doesn’t say anything, only lets himself be coddled for the time being. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” Alex grumbles instantly. “Like I said, I’m—”

“Fine, yeah, yeah, I got it,” Miles snaps. He feels Alex tense under his arms and he feels momentarily guilty – he doesn’t want to upset Alex, but he can be so stubborn it drives Miles up the wall. “Sorry. I was just going to offer to make something if you were, is all.”

Alex doesn’t say anything at first. He just leans further into Miles and breathes for a few minutes, letting Miles run his fingers through his hair comfortingly and instinctively. Alex shifts and throws his arm across Miles’ chest, half hugging him and half pinning him down against the settee. “Tea would be splendid, since you’re offering,” he mumbles into Miles’ shirt.

Miles smiles. “Of course, love,” he says, and starts moving to get up before he is vehemently stopped by Alex’s tightening arms. “I have to get up to make you tea, Al.”

“Ugh,” Alex grumbles. “Hurry, then.”

Miles rolls his eyes fondly as Alex lets go of him and leans back, his eyes fluttering shut as his head once more rests against the cushion. He looks so feeble and weak Miles almost can’t bring himself to leave the room and leave him by himself for the four minutes it will take him to make the tea.

But he does. He pads into the kitchen and makes the tea as fast as he possibly can, digging around the cabinets of Alex’s poorly stocked cupboards, tapping his fingers against the counter as the kettle heats up, and makes sure to pour some honey in it for Alex’s clearly irritated throat. When he reenters the room, Alex hasn’t moved an inch and Miles wonders if he’s fallen asleep.

The second Miles sits on the couch, though, Alex’s eyes fly open and a small smile comes across his face when they rest on Miles. “Here,” Miles says, holding the mug out to him. “Hopefully it’ll help you feel better.”

Alex hums as he takes a first sip, and Miles puts his arm around him again, rubbing gentle circles into his shoulder as Alex finishes the drink. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Miles just kisses the side of his head in response.

**~**

**“Tell your mum I said hi.”**

Alex can’t find his fucking favorite sleep shirt. He had it last in his brown bag, but he’s emptied it out and repacked it maybe eight hundred times now, and still has no clue where it’s gone. _It’s a sleep shirt, it’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it,_ his brain and the rest of the rational universe keep telling him, but somehow, it feels like the cherry on top to his already shit mood.

The first and maybe last Last Shadow Puppets tour ended four hours ago, and Alex is going home with his parents for a week. Tonight. His parents insisted he come back with them the night of the last show, giving him no chance to spend as much time as he wants with Miles, or Alexa, or anyone – nope, instead, he’s off to Sheffield in less than three hours, and he should’ve been at the airport twenty minutes ago.

And he can’t find his fucking shirt.

“Fuck!” he yells, throwing the clothes in his hands to the floor out of frustration. He falls onto his hotel bed, ignoring the mess the room has become in his hunt for this extremely trivial item, and puts his face in his hands, tugging at the ends of his own hair. He’s so _tired_. He doesn’t want to spend a week with his parents, visiting old family friends and having to socialize. He just finished a bloody tour! There’s no remaining stamina in his body for this level of human interaction anymore.

Not without Miles around at least.

With Miles, everything is easy and everything is enjoyable – he never tires of being around Miles, especially now that they’ve…. blurred the boundaries of their relationship a smidge. Now that Alex can kiss and touch Miles as much as he pleases, he can’t bear to give it up. Even if it is only for a week.

But Alex knows it’ll be longer than that. After all, Miles has his own family to visit, his own band to return to, and his own life to get on with. Alex is due to go into a studio in California with the Monkeys soon, and he’s not sure when him and Miles will be able to see each other before then. The thought puts a weight in his chest that makes it impossible for him to move. He’s never been this clingy with another person. He hates himself for it.

“Al?” Miles' voice calls, a soft knock breaking him out of his head. Miles’ key unlocks the door, and he tentatively peers his head in, eyes going wide at the sight before him. “Jesus, Al, the fuck happened?”

“My shirt,” he says cryptically. Miles ignores him, though, and just walks in to sit next to Alex.

Miles puts an arm around him and Alex falls into it as readily as ever, trying to push all of the negativity out of his body through his breath as he does so. If Miles notices, he does Alex the favor of not saying anything, and instead rubs circles into his shoulder with his thumb.

“Wish we could’ve done more shows together,” he says quietly. Any other time these words would make Alex’s heart do somersaults in his chest, but right now they just upset him.

“Yeah,” he says curtly. “It’s too bad.”

“Are you alright?” Miles asks, stunned at Alex’s anger.

“Just—” Alex stammers, groaning into his hand before continuing. “I don’t feel like going home is all.”

“Al, c’mon, you haven’t been home in ages,” Miles tries to console. “Your parents must be dying for you to visit.”

“Yeah, well maybe I don’t fucking want to, Miles,” he snaps. Miles drops his arm.

“Jesus, Al,” he says again. “I was gonna say I’ll miss you, but not if you’re having a diva rock star meltdown on me.”

“Whatever,” Alex grumbles, standing up and going back to digging around all his shit for this one particular shirt he’s gotten so set on. “I’ve to get going.”

Miles raises his eyebrows at him as if waiting for Alex to elaborate. “Message received loud and clear,” he says when Alex doesn’t continue and just tosses items carelessly into his bag. “Well, tell your mum I said hi. I’ll leave you be now.”

Alex’s body involuntarily warms at Miles’ wish to greet Penny and the weight it carries – the similarities between their mothers is something that’s amused them since day one, and the familiarity between them and the other’s mother from this is something that’s made Alex melt in his skin since the start as well. Penny absolutely adores Miles, as anyone should, and he can practically hear her scolding him for being a “whiny piss-ant” right now.

“Miles,” Alex says before Miles is out of the room, reaching an arm out meekly towards him. “I’m sorry. I’m just— I’m stressed, and I’m tired, and… I’m gonna miss you too, you know.”

Miles smiles at him and moves back over, wrapping his arms around Alex. Alex returns the hug and squeezes Miles as tightly as he can. “We’ll see each other soon,” Miles whispers. “Call me the second you can, okay?”

“I will,” Alex whispers back, tucking his face into Miles’ shoulder. They continue to spend more of Alex’s limited time like this, wrapped up in each other, but it serves as the best distraction from his missing shirt and, as always, the greatest remedy for any emotional troubles Alex may have.

**~**

**“I miss you.”**

Miles never thought he’d be one to be leaving sappy drunk voicemails to people, but here he is – alone on his couch after a night out, lonely and missing a certain someone’s company so dearly he can’t ignore the ache in his chest any longer. It’s been months since he saw Alex last. They’ve hardly seen each other since their tour ended, and now that Alex is off recording the Monkeys’ third album, he barely has any time to talk. Miles is sure he talks to Alexa much more frequently, a bitter fact he can’t get unhooked from his brain, and he hates that he spent most of his night out with his mates wishing Alex were there with him. Something feels off between them, and Miles, in fit of drunk stupidity, has his hand is on his phone before he can think about it. Next thing he knows, that voice he misses so much is speaking in his ear.

_“It’s Alex, leave a message.”_

And then the beep. Miles hadn’t really thought this far into it.

“Uh, hey Al,” he starts, trying not to sound as drunk as he feels. “Hey. I… it’s been a while, hasn’ it? I ‘ope you’re having a good time out in the desert, with Homme and the lads and all. I’m sure you’re all brewing up the next big classic.” He stops, drunkenly hiccups, and continues. “Er, anyways. I just wanted to… I don’t know. It’s weird, innit? Us not speaking? I miss you, I guess, is the point of this. I miss you like hell, and I saw tha’ post Alexa made on the picture app, instant-gram or whatever… and, like, I know we were never a _thing,_ but… seeing her picture made me… I dunno, it stung. I shouldn’t even be sayin’ that, probably. But it’s true. I miss you. And I stole that shirt you were looking so desperately for, the one you like to sleep in. It smells like you. This is… fuck. I… call me, ‘kay? It’s been too long, and you’re too far away. Al—”

The phone beeps again, signaling he’s out of time. The sharp noise startles him out of the daze he’d gone into as he left that surely deeply embarrassing voicemail, and he stares at his phone in silence for a moment before hiccuping again, the room spinning around him in his inebriated state, curling into the settee beneath him and hoping Alex misses him half as much as Miles misses him.

**~**

**“I did the dishes.”**

Alex opens the door to his flat, finding it concerning unlocked – it worries him for all of four seconds before he remembers Miles has a key. He didn’t think Miles would be here though. After all, he has his own apartment barely two streets over, there’s no need for him to be in Alex’s while he’s away in New York with Alexa. It’s dark, it’s too early in the morning, and he’s tired and doesn’t have the mental energy to try and rationalize Miles’ thought process for spending time here rather than in his own place.

“Hello?” he calls out into the empty living room, where he expected Miles to be. “Miles?”

He hears stirring in – is that noise coming from his bedroom? Sure enough, when he pushes the door open to investigate, Miles is lying comfortably in his bed, propped up on his elbows. The sight puts a smile on Alex’s face before he can think any better of it. Miles looks soft and so invitingly warm, Alex wants nothing more than to crawl right in beside him.

“Al, hey,” he croaks out, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he does so. “I didn’t think you’d be back till later.”

“Is that why you’re in me bed?” Alex teases as he drops his bag, sitting on the edge of the bed to kick his shoes off.

“I prob’ly look like a proper creep right now,” Miles says with a smirk on his face. “If it helps any, I’ve been taking care of your plants while you were gone.”

“Miles, I didn’t leave any plants,” Alex informs him, fighting the laughter that wants to burst out of him.

“Oh, right,” he says. “Well, I got you some. And I’ve been caring for them so you had some greenery to come back to. The house seemed a bit desolate, if I’m honest with you here.”

“So thoughtful of you,” Alex says lightly. “You mind if I join?”

“You don’t have to ask me, Al,” Miles says in a way that carries a weight Alex can’t quite explain. “It’s your bed, after all.”

Alex just snorts, and stands up to rid himself of his jeans, change into pajamas, brush his teeth, and finally, _finally_, lie down. He can’t help himself from curling closer to Miles the second his head touches the pillow, reaching for him spurred on by a neediness he keeps hidden with most people. Miles smiles softly at him and curls his arms around him, pulling Alex’s face into his chest. Alex can’t see, smell, or feel anything that isn’t Miles.

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I gave you a key to my flat,” he says a minute later, already nearly half asleep. “What else ‘ave you been doing here while I’ve been gone?”

Miles hums and starts rubbing circles into Alex’s clothed back. “Mostly playing your guitars,” he says. Alex kicks him playfully in the shin, a look of incredulous shock on his face. “Settle, Al. You’ve just got that stellar viper I can’t resist. ‘sides, I’ve been a perfectly decent house guest. I did the dishes, kept the place tidy and fresh, and I was gonna have breakfast made for you when you got back – but you’re here earlier than I expected.”

“Sorry to thwart your plan,” Alex mumbles. “I’m glad you’re here, though. Much nicer to return home to someone I’ve been wanting to see than to an empty, dusty, plant-less apartment.”

Miles kisses the top of his head, and Alex feels himself practically melt into Miles’ arms. “Nice to see you, too,” he whispers into Alex’s hair.

“’m knackered,” Alex says so quietly Miles can barely hear him. “You better make good on that promise of breakfast once I wake up later.”

“I will,” Miles promises with an uncontrollable smile on his face, his heart racing in his chest for reasons he doesn’t want to admit to himself. Before he can say anything else, Alex is snoring softly against his neck, and Miles just stares, trying desperately to memorize everything about the moment.

**~**

**“I’ll pick you up at the airport.”**

_M: Just landed_

_A: OK_

_A: I’m leaving now_

Miles glances down at his phone, smiling at Alex letting him know he’s on his way, Alex’s promise made on the phone a few days earlier of a personal airport pickup ringing in his ears as he drags his suitcase along behind him. He’s here in sunny Los Angeles, about to see Alex’s new house for the first time, and about to see Alex for the first time in a while. It’s always been too long when they’re apart. It could be one single day apart and Miles would still feel like it’d have been too long since they’d last seen each other.

He makes his way through the confusing airport as slow as ever, trying to calm himself and his nerves at the prospect of seeing Alex. It’s the first time he’s seen him since he and Alexa broke up, and Miles quite honestly isn’t sure how he’s been dealing. He knows Alex got a haircut. A _haircut _haircut. And Miles would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel a certain way about it. Above everything though, he’s just excited to see his best friend. It truly has been too long this time, and Miles has wanted nothing more than for the two of them to be alone together, in person, where he can touch and see and properly talk to Alex. It’s never the same on the phone, no matter how much they try.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long when he reaches the arrivals pick up location. Alex sees him before he sees Alex, because he’s suddenly three feet from Miles and then he’s bounding into Miles’ arms. Or rather, Miles is in Alex’s arms. Alex all but jumps onto him, wrapping his arms around Miles’ neck and tucking his face against his shoulder, the smell of him overwhelming Miles instantly. He drops his suitcase and returns the hug with equal enthusiasm, so happy he feels like he might float away without the weight of Alex against him.

“Hi,” he breathes into Alex’s gelled hair, something he’s never seen before, and is surprised to find out smells like oranges.

“Hi,” Alex whispers back, not loosening his grip on Miles at all. Miles does nothing to loosen his grip, either. He’d be content to stand here in Alex’s embrace forever if given the chance.

“Thanks for not leaving me stranded here,” Miles jokes into his ear. Alex giggles, and Miles’ stomach does several flips in his body.

“I’d never,” Alex says, finally loosening his arms, but only to lean back enough to meet Miles’ eyes. Alex seems to have forgotten they’re in public, and closes the distance between them once more, this time to kiss Miles so delicately he almost can’t bear it.

**~**

**“I dreamt about you last night.”**

The first thing Alex becomes aware of when he wakes up is how warm he is.

He wants to blame is on the beaming sunshine coming in through the open window, but somehow he already knows he can’t fully. He rolls over and takes note of Matt in the hotel bed three feet away from his. Slowly his awareness comes back to him – he’s on tour with the Monkeys, they’re in Spain, and he last saw Miles ten days ago for their show in London. _Miles_.

He throws his head back on the pillow and groans lowly as the dream, so vivid in his mind seconds before he opened his eyes, fades out of his memory, leaving only small bits and pieces.

_Him and Miles on his settee, curled together while a film plays in the background. Miles asking if he wants any more tea when he gets up for a moment, kissing Alex’s cheek and rubbing his cheekbone with his thumb before he walks away. Miles’ wide smile and bright eyes as he looks at Alex. Miles telling him he loves—_

Oh.

Alex groans again, hot all over, but not at all from arousal – rather, there’s _warmth_ being spread through him directly through his veins, reaching every corner of his body and making his skin tingle. He can’t stop thinking about Miles. He’s all but forgotten about his new girlfriend Arielle – the inexplicable glow currently filling his body all but erases her from his mind. It’s just… Miles. All he can think about is Miles.

It’s not like this is the first time he’s dreamt about Miles, and it’s not like they aren’t affectionate with one another. They’ve been fooling around with each other practically since they met, and Alex has never let himself think twice about it, because he knows if he does, there will be a lot of questions to answer that he doesn’t quite know how to yet. Most of his dreams regarding Miles up until now have been X-rated. Nothing like this tame, vanilla, domestic vision of the two of them as… as a couple, almost. That’s what it feels like to Alex. Nowhere in the dream did either of them express they were a couple, but it’s one of those dream things where he just _knows _that’s what was happening. He dreamt about him and Miles being in a relationship.

He jumps out of bed and rushes into the shower, hoping that if he washes the sleep off his body the dream will go with it. And unfortunately, this is not how it works for him.

He – unsurprisingly – cannot get it out of his mind. All day, it’s there, lingering and tinting his every thought. It’s there during rehearsals, during dinner, during the show itself. It’s still there when Miles calls him late in the evening.

Alex almost doesn’t answer. This dream has him so weirdly shaken up that he’s worried Miles will somehow sense it over the phone. However, he flips his phone open and presses accept before his mind can stop him, never able to resist a chance to talk to Miles.

“Hey, Miles,” he says quietly into the speaker.

“Al!” Miles exuberantly greets him, voice full of that infectious joy Alex can never get enough of. He can practically see the smile on Miles’ face. It’s so easy for him to picture exactly what Miles looks like right now, what Miles always looks like when he’s talking to Alex. “How are ya, mate? You busy right now?”

“Uh – no, not at all,” he stammers. “We just finished the show, I’m walking back to the hotel now. Don’t feel like being out or anythin’ tonight.”

“How were it?”

“The show?” Alex says. “It were fine, I suppose. Nothin’ noteworthy. I’m a bit out of it today, actually.”

“Oh?” Miles presses, a new interest in his voice. He’s reading Alex and Alex knows it. “Why’s that? Did something happen?”

Alex swallows. He hates that he can’t keep secrets from Miles – normally it’s no problem for him to conceal and hide things from people, but he’s never been able to with Miles. He feels the words forming in his mouth and he feels powerless to stop it. “No, nothing happened,” he starts. “It’s… eh, I dunno, mate. I had this dream last night…”

“A dream?” Miles asks. “Like a nightmare?”

“No, not quite,” Alex says. “Kind of the opposite. I… I dreamt about you. About us, rather.”

Miles is silent. Alex can practically hear him thinking, can see the forehead wrinkles and the nervous tapping of his fingers against his thigh. “’bout me?” Miles finally says. “What’d I do to get you all out of sorts like this?”

“You… I mean, we were just on my settee,” he says hesitantly. “Watching a film like we always do. But… I don’t know. It just left me feeling a bit weird.”

Miles is quiet again. “Y’know, Al,” he begins gently. “I dream about you all the time.”

Alex’s heart skips several beats in his chest at that. Now it’s his turn to be silent and process. He literally stops walking in his tracks when Miles says that, his eyes spacing out and locking on absolutely nothing as he tries to understand the implication and meaning of Miles’ words and figure out what the hell he’s even supposed to say back. “Um,” he sounds. “Wow,” he continues lamely. “I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing really to say, I guess,” Miles says instantly. “Just wanted you to know you aren’t alone there.”

“Oh… okay,” he says. “Miles—”

“I’ll let you go,” he interrupts, leaving Alex stunned and perplexed. “Sweet dreams, Al. Hope you get some better rest tonight.”

“Uh... yeah, thanks, Mi,” he says. “See you.”

With that, Miles hangs up the phone, and Alex is alone with his thoughts once more.

**~**

**“Good luck.”**

Normally, their roles are reversed here.

It’s much less common for Miles to be so nervous before a show, pacing around; it’s Alex’s thing to be like that, if anything. Miles is the one of them who looks forward to all the eyes on him and being the center of attention. But for some reason tonight, he can’t quell the anxiety welling up inside of him. He has no idea why it’s there, or what to do about it.

To be fair – this is one of his biggest solo shows yet, and in LA no less. Unchartered territory for him as a solo artist. Alex is here to watch, but he’s off somewhere in another room right now while Miles gets ready, and Miles wishes he were in here with him.

After a few minutes of pacing, Miles’ manager comes in to tell him he has to be out there in fifteen minutes. He nods, shooing her out of the dressing room, and looking at his phone longingly. Alex probably won’t even see the text. But he can’t stop himself from trying. He finds Alex’s contact in his phone and types out a quick “can you come here” text, sends it, and all but drops it back onto the couch as he continues pacing around the room.

He’s not sure what he even expects Alex to be able to do for him. After all, Alex is the one between them who has trouble putting his thoughts into words, and even though they’re close, sometimes Alex still doesn’t know what to say. Miles doesn’t know what he’d say if it were Alex who felt this way. But then again, Alex would never have to feel like this. Alex would never have to prove himself the way Miles has to, because he’s talented, smart, beautiful, elusive, universally adored, and Miles is seen as nothing more than a wannabe using Alex to—

The door swings open. It’s Alex.

“Al,” he greets, feeling almost winded. Alex watches him for a brief second before closing the door behind him and approaching Miles.

“Hi,” Alex returns. “Got your text. Are you alright?”

There Alex is again, picking up on exactly what's happening through one text and two spoken words. He shuts his eyes and inhales once as he tries to think of how to respond. He’s never liked confiding in other people about his problems – even Alex. It’s not personal, and it’s not about Alex, it’s just hard for him admit to feeling like this. Even though the reason he summoned Alex was because of how he’s feeling right now – he mostly just wants a distraction, and Alex’s presence is the best distraction the universe could possibly provide.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Miles laments, ignoring Alex’s direct question. “I know you were probably... well, I… I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What?” Alex asks, confusion evident in his voice. “Hey. Don’t apologize. I wasn’t doing anything but sitting listening to your manager ramble on about tour logistics. Are you alright?” he repeats, looking at Miles with anxious eyes.

“No,” Miles mumbles. In these few seconds Alex has been in here, his presence has overtaken all of Miles’ senses and begun to calm him. He’d started forgetting about his nerves, but at Alex pressing him on it, it all comes rushing back to him. “No, I’m… I’m getting stage fright, Al. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Alex is silent for a moment, before he starts giggling. “You? _Miles Kane?_ Having stage fright? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, well…,” Miles says sheepishly, trailing off uncomfortably. “Guess even I’m not immune to it.”

“You’ll be great, Miles,” Alex says softly in that drawl Miles adores so much. He moves cautiously towards Miles like he’s worried any too sudden movement will scare him away, a hand coming to rest on his arm, sliding down gently to intertwine their fingers. “You always are. You’re a natural performer; it’ll be a _stellar _show, I have no doubt.”

Miles exhales once and tries to clear his head before he answers. “Just feels like a lot of pressure this time,” he says quietly after a moment.

Alex purses his lips, brows knitting together as he looks over Miles’ defeated stance, his hunched shoulders and tightened expression. “Well,” Alex starts, rubbing his thumb over the back of Miles’ hand. “I’ll be here, and I’m your biggest fan, so no matter what, you have my love. I won’t leave side stage for a second, I promise.”

He doesn’t know how Alex has just the right words to say right now that Miles is so upset – maybe it’s just a testament to how much he loves him. But regardless, it works, and it calms him. “I’ll be looking for you,” he promises.

“And I’ll be there,” Alex promises back. “You gonna be okay?”

Miles shrugs. Alex doesn’t push it this time, and instead steps closer to wrap his arms around Miles. Miles’ body relaxes instantly, sinking into Alex’s grip and hugging him back just as fiercely. They stay like that for so long Miles thinks he might fall asleep, but then his manager rasps on the door again with the five minute announcement, and so they unwillingly break apart.

“Thanks, Al,” Miles says sincerely.

Alex smiles. “Of course,” he says as he leans in to press a soft kiss to Miles’ cheek. “Good luck, babe.”

Miles hates how much he blushes at Alex calling him “babe.” He knows Alex is keenly aware of how it affects him, especially if the smile turned smirk on his face is anything to go off. Alex makes good on his promise to never leave side stage, standing there the whole show with a beer bottle in his hand and a smile on his face as he watches. Miles makes sure to get right back at him when he announces Colour of the Trap with a “this one’s for you, babe” as he locks eyes with Alex, feeling victorious when a matching blush to his own comes to brighten Alex’s cheeks.

**~**

**“It looks good on you.”**

It’s become a bit of a joke amongst all of their friends that Alex and Miles’ telepathy also results in the two of them showing up to events accidentally in the same or perfectly coordinated outfit. They’ve enjoyed playing off it and intentionally coordinating their clothes, as it’s rather easy to – the reason they show up in matching outfits so often is because they have so many similar clothes. And, of course, the telepathy.

Now here in Iceland with Matt and Jamie, they’ve decided to take the piss out of their constantly teasing about their outfits and dress not only in matching outfits, but in matching leather jackets and sunglasses. Matching, feathered leather jackets. They look absolutely ridiculous, and they absolutely know it, rolling into the bar with itchy, tacky feathers on their shoulders and their arms too close together. They’ve been laughing the whole walk over for one reason or another, and when they see Jamie notice them and nearly spit out his drink, they start cackling again.

“Are you guys fucking serious?” he calls out as they approach and slide into the booth on the same side, taking off their sunglasses (unintentionally) in sync with one another. Alex can practically see Jamie’s amusement increasing.

“Just thought we’d try something new tonight,” Alex says.

“And Alex looks well fit in leather jackets,” Miles says back just as fast.

Alex looks over at him. “It looks good on you, mate.”

“Nah,” Miles dismisses. “It looks better on you.”

Alex blushes, and before he can open his mouth to reply, Matt wolf whistles at them as he sits down into the booth beside Jamie, a full pint in his hand. “Well, this is interesting,” he says as he looks over their matching, hideous jackets. “What’s the concept here?”

“A little bit of fun,” Miles says coyly, resting a hand on Alex’s thigh under the table.

Matt scoffs and dismisses them, resuming his conversation with Jamie, leaving Alex to try and ignore the effects of Miles’ hand on his leg and Miles to try and ignore the effects of Alex in a leather jacket.

**~**

**“You’re warm.”**

Miles would love nothing more than to stay right where he currently is for the rest of eternity.

It’s the middle of a beautiful, sunny California day – warm, dry air coming in through the open window, bright sunlight filling the room, the sounds of birds and cars and whatever else fighting for their attention with the sound of the TV program they’ve got on.

It’s the perfect set up for Alex to take a nap. Miles is on his back lengthwise on the couch, Alex completely on top of him with his head tucked into Miles’ neck, one arm curled next to him and the other curled beneath Miles’ torso, clinging onto him in the neediest of ways. Miles knew this is exactly where the afternoon would take them when Alex suggested they lie down after they’d eaten lunch – Alex is easily predictable in his habits like this, and Miles feels no bigger honor in life than getting to be Alex’s pillow for these pleasant catnaps.

The trouble, however, is that they’d agreed to meet James this evening to discuss the next steps in beginning the recording of the second Puppets’ album, and that time is rapidly approaching. Alex is always late to everything, so he knows James understands that “four o’clock” really means “four thirty to four forty-five,” but Miles operates in a much more punctual manner and is keenly aware of the fact they’re running out of time right now. He alternates his eyes between the TV and his fingers combing through Alex’s perfectly gelled back hair, taking lots of satisfaction from how he’s allowed to mess up Alex’s fresh new hairstyle like this. He’s got his other stroking the space between Alex’s shoulder blades, so lightly and gently Alex probably wouldn’t even really feel it if he were awake, but Miles can’t stop himself. He’s fine with letting Alex be late this one time. He can’t bear to move right now and give up his front row seat to Alex’s peaceful resting face, to the little snores that come out of his mouth every so often, to the way Alex will shift around to snuggle closer to Miles even in his sleep.

And so they stay like that for what feels like forever, until Alex’s phone starts buzzing incessantly on the table. Miles reaches for it with the hand he previously had in Alex’s hair and sees it’s James calling Alex.

“’ello?” Miles answers quietly, trying not to wake Alex.

“Oh, Miles?” James asks. “Hey, I was ringing to see how late Al’s running.”

“Well, he’s asleep right now,” he explains. “But I can wake him if you want.”

“Yeah, please,” he replies. “Don’t have the time today for his lateness.”

Miles chuckles. “Alright, we’ll be over soon,” he promises James.

“Thanks, Miles,” James says. “See ya soon.” The line goes dead immediately after, ending the brief call.

Miles just sighs and puts the phone back down, resolving to the fact their peaceful bubble has to pop now. Even if they weren’t meeting James, Miles always feels guilty letting Alex sleep too long because he knows Alex never means to, but Miles just always gets so distracted and caught up with the sight in front of him. Alex is so beautiful, and Miles never wants to look away, and when Alex is doing nothing but lying on top of him sleeping, Miles finds it all but impossible to tear his eyes off Alex.

But he knows he has to wake him right now. Thankfully, Alex is as light a sleeper as they come - he’s surprised the phone call didn’t wake him - so all it really takes is for Miles to start shaking his shoulder a bit and saying his name. “Al, love, hey, wake up,” he says quietly as he starts trying to rouse Alex. Alex’s eyes fly open for the briefest of seconds before he groans and pushes his nose into Miles’ collarbone.

“Time is it?” Alex asks, tightening his arms around Miles.

“Nearly four,” he says. His heart is all but bursting at how clingy Alex is right now – he always is after waking up, but Miles never quite gets used to how much it endears him to Alex. “And James just called – says we can’t be late today.”

Alex is silent for a moment, and Miles starts to worry he’s fallen back asleep. “You’re so warm,” he mumbles into Miles’ neck, ignoring what he’d just said. He shuffles around a bit so he’s even more comfortably settled on top of Miles, and exhales onto Miles’ skin.

“You’re like a heavy blanket,” Miles teases, unable to resist brushing Alex’s hair out of his face. Alex smiles with his eyes still closed, and though the last thing Miles wants to do right now is force Alex off of him, he knows he has to. Thankfully, all it takes is for Miles to sit up the slightest bit, and suddenly Alex is leaning back so he can look Miles in the eye. He moves in to press a soft, sleep filled kiss to Miles’ mouth, and then lifts off him to sit up against the couch. Miles follows as if attached by a string and wraps an arm around his shoulders, leaning in to kiss his jaw as Alex starts rubbing at his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long,” Alex complains as Miles keeps leaving kiss after kiss along his jawline, chin, and cheek. “Fook’s sake. Me head’s pounding.”

“Sorry, babe,” Miles says sympathetically. “You want me to make some tea while you freshen up?”

“Mmm, yeah, if you’d be so kind,” he giggles when Miles bites lightly at his neck. “Stop mauling me, though, since we apparently don’t have time for that.”

Miles just chuckles and kisses his neck once more before moving away, squeezing his shoulder and then standing up off the couch with Alex in tow.

**~**

**“Don’t worry about me.”**

Miles loves a lot of things about the summer he’s been having. He loves the California sunshine, the beach, the beautiful studio they’ve been recording in, the fact they’re recording a Puppets album, and Alex. He loves Alex.

At this point, he knows it, and he’s come to terms with it. He doesn’t know what the future has in store for the two of them, and he’s learned to be okay with that – because Alex is his best friend, and he knows no matter what happens that will never change. Alex is his best friend, they’re making an album, they’re sleeping together, and Alex lets Miles do absolutely anything he wants to him.

Miles has to admit that Alex’s submissive tendencies surprised him a tad at the beginning, but over time, as he’s come more into himself and become more confident in taking the lead, in sex and in life, he’s come to love Alex’s submissiveness. Alex is the perfect yin to Miles’ yang; Miles wants to give Alex everything he can, and Alex wants to take and return it all with equal enthusiasm. The two of them never run out of desire for each other, and this new, Puppets filled environment is only amplifying it.

The noises Alex is making presently as Miles kisses his neck are making Miles harder than he already is, straining almost painfully against his boxers. He’s got his hands running smoothly over Alex’s bare chest and is pushing apart his legs with his knee as he leaves a line of deep kisses down his throat and into the dip of his collarbone. Alex tugs at his hair when their pelvises align and Miles ruts against him, giving them both the friction they’re so actively seeking.

“God, Alex,” Miles gasps into Alex’s neck. Alex moans his name much the same, and when Miles moves back to once more ask Alex if he’s sure, Alex nods before the words even escape his lips.

Miles wastes no time from there reaching for Alex’s zipper and removing his jeans, laughing when Alex tries to work with him in the struggle to get the skin-tight jeans down his thighs and off his legs. When they finally manage, Miles pushes into Alex’s boxers, finding him hard and heavy in his hand. Miles moans and lets Alex tug on his hair once more, this time to pull his face up and crash their lips together. His tongue licks into Alex’s mouth eagerly and wetly, the familiar taste and feel of Alex setting all his nerves alight. He starts moving his hand up and down Alex’s cock, at the exact speed Alex likes, and the little moans Alex lets off into his mouth drive Miles absolutely insane, making him want to do anything and everything to have Alex keep making those noises.

Miles moves his mouth to Alex’s ear, nibbling on it and then shifting to bite along his jawline, his free hand pulling Alex’s hair sharply so his head tilts back and he has more space, more opportunity to make Alex feel good. He feels one of Alex’s hands move down his body and start struggling with the zipper on Miles’ own jeans.

Miles bats his hand away. “Don’t worry about me,” he whispers into Alex’s ear. “This is for you, yeah? Let me take care of you tonight.”

Alex’s eyes go wide at that and then flutter shut as Miles moves down his body teasingly slow. Miles wishes their moments like this together could go on for an eternity. He gets so much out of making Alex feel good that he’s more than content to let Alex lie back and let himself have it tonight. He gets practically high off watching Alex relax and lose himself in the things Miles does to him. When Miles slips into Alex’s body later that evening, pinning Alex’s hands down above his head, foreheads pressed together, Miles feels so on top of the world he’s not sure he'll ever come down.

**~**

**“There’s enough room for both of us.”**

It’s been a while since the two of them shared a tour bus like this.

They’ve only just started their tour – having done the first couple shows in their hometowns – and so this is their first night staying in the bus the way they will be for the next five months. It’s small, it’s cramped, it’s everything a tour bus is but better, because Miles is here this time. Alex always dreads this part of being on tour. He hates the close quarters and the endless driving, but not with Miles. With Miles it feels like the two of them just cracking on and having a grand old time for hours on end, rather than exhausting travel.

Miles runs to the back of the bus to claim his bunk first, leaving Alex to follow mindlessly as Miles begins digging around his suitcase for his pajamas and toothbrush, tucking away his suitcase beneath the bunk. Alex notices these bunks are much larger than the ones he’s had before – they seem less coffin like and more like actual beds. He can’t be bothered with the effort required to get ready for bed, and instead of getting changed or washing his face or anything, he kicks his jeans and shoes off, unbuttons his shirt so he’s just left in his white undershirt and boxers, and climbs into the bunk above the one Miles left his clothes in.

Miles comes back out of the bathroom with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and starts rummaging through his stuff again as Alex watches, waiting for Miles to join him. “Miles,” he says, muffled by the pillow he’s pressed his face into, flirty smirk on his face. “You gonna join me anytime soon?”

Miles just stares at him blankly for a minute, and Alex’s blood runs cold as he realizes maybe they weren’t on the same page here. He starts rambling nervously. “Are we not… I mean… I just thought we’d…,” he stumbles, utterly confused by Miles’ look. Miles furrows his eyebrows and leaves again, this time to spit out the toothpaste and rinse his mouth, returning to Alex with minty breath that draws Alex in embarrassingly easily.

“We can,” Miles says softly. “I wasn’t sure you’d wanna.”

“Of course I want to,” Alex insists, practically offended Miles would think otherwise. “These bunks are huge; there’s more than enough room for both of us.”

Miles glances into at the bunk he’d started claiming and looks back at Alex with a smirk on his face. “Huge is a bit of an overstatement.”

“You’re making it so easy for me to make a dick joke right now.”

“Saucy,” Miles plays, adopting one of their overly exaggerated persona voices. “Scoot over then, my princess.”

“Call me princess one more time and I’ll have them strap you to the roof of the bus,” Alex snaps, putting a hand out to block Miles’ ascent into the bunk.

Miles rolls his eyes and pushes Alex’s hand away. “You wouldn’t,” he says brusquely as he lies down beside Alex. “You’d get so bored without me.”

“It’d be quiet, at least,” Alex teases as Miles reaches a hand up to brush his hair out of his face. He doesn’t entertain that quip with a response, instead leaning in to pull Alex’s face to his, their lips meeting gently and moving together so languidly it feels like they could go on forever. Alex hums when Miles leans back, leaving their foreheads intimately pressed together. “Thanks,” he murmurs against Miles’ mouth after a moment of silence and a moment of Miles’ fingers running through his hair.

“For what?” Miles asks, watching Alex with curious eyes.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, gazing up at Miles in what appears to be awe, and something else Miles can’t put words to. He just smiles and wraps his arms around Alex, warmth spreading through him when Alex melts into the embrace and holds onto him just as tight.

**~**

**“You can borrow mine.”**

“Al? Are you ready yet?” Miles calls out from the door to the bus. They were supposed to leave for this interview ten minutes ago, but Alex has been rampantly digging through his bags, tossing clothes onto the floor and books off tables in search of an unnamed item. He groans loudly and aggressively pushes his hair out of his face, whipping around to lock eyes with Miles from the bunk area.

“I lost it, Miles!” he shouts. “My fucking Death Ramps ring. I can’t believe I fucking lost it!”

“Oh, shit,” he says, approaching him slowly, grabbing his hands and stroking his thumbs over the back of Alex’s hands. “Al, it’s alright, it’ll turn up I’m sure, but we really—”

“Fuck!” he shouts again, seemingly set off by the feeling of Miles’ ring against his hand. “Miles, I need it. That’s—”

“Okay, okay, Alex,” Miles starts, trying to calm him. “Here. You can borrow mine, alright? We’ll find yours, and until then you can wear mine. We’ve really got to get going though, I know our reputation is being late and terrible to interview but I’d like to at least try and not live up to that.”

“Miles,” Alex whines, pulling his hands back and running them over his face.

“Al, baby, what’s really wrong?” Miles asks carefully, his voice dripping with concern as he puts his hands on Alex’s shoulders.

“I always lose shit! I’m so careless but I’m never careless with… with, like, with this,” he starts in a softer voice than before. “I’m mad at myself. It’s my Death Ramps ring! And I lost it!”

“It happens,” Miles tries. “It’s okay, Al. We can get you a new one. And hey – it’s tiny a ring, okay? We’re traveling, it’s easy for things to get lost, especially something so small. It’s not your fault, and you shouldn’t be mad at yourself. Please, take mine for today at least if it’ll make you feel better.”

He holds out the ring for Alex to take. He stares down at it for a moment, and then takes it and slips it onto his pinky, looking up at Miles with glossy eyes. “Okay,” he agrees quietly. “Sorry to blow up. I guess... I’m just anxious. And this didn’t help.”

“It’s alright,” he says, pulling Alex in for a hug. “Now, we really have to go. Don’t think we’ll get another free pass to be so late after this.”

Alex grumbles into Miles’ shoulder, but lets himself be led out of the bus and to the interview, fiddling with Miles’ ring the whole time.

**~**

**“I’m sorry.”**

Alex walks off stage feeling, above all else, _weird_.

Their show was weird. It was shorter than most, due to it being a festival, and Alex for once is grateful for that. He doesn’t think he could’ve handled a full hour and fifteen minutes of what just happened. The barely forty they had was more than enough.

Miles isn’t speaking to him. Miles wouldn’t share the mic with him during Standing Next to Me, for god’s sake. They _always _share the mic there. No matter what’s going on. But today, no not today. Today, Miles swiftly leaned away when Alex tried to swoop in and press their faces together like they do every single other night. Miles wasn’t having any of his shit today. Miles didn’t bat an eye when he went down on his back, legs in the air, and started doing bicycles. He didn’t give a second glance when Alex started waving his guitar around in the air, or when he straddled the mic booth, or anything. Nothing seemed to get Miles to give him even a second of attention.

It’s rare he fucks up _this_ bad with Miles. He knows that Miles has every right to be mad today – Alex did something careless and said something callous, and when Miles called him out for it, Alex did the worst possible thing and lashed back out at Miles. And now Miles won’t talk to him.

He’s trailing behind Miles as they exit the stage and walk through the halls of the backstage, winding back toward their dressing room the fight occurred in. They have an interview in an hour, and Alex doesn’t know how the fuck that’s going to go if Miles still won’t even look at him.

“Miles,” he calls as he struggles to keep up with Miles’ much faster pace. Miles stops abruptly, causing Alex to nearly slam into him, and turns slowly and calculatedly till he’s staring Alex down the nose. “C-can we talk?”

“I don’t know, Alex, am I allowed to talk to you?” he snaps. Alex recoils and furrows his brows, but Miles doesn’t continue. He just turns on his heel and keeps walking.

When they reach the dressing room, Alex slams the door behind them and watches in stunned silence as Miles pours himself a drink and sinks down onto the couch, eyes on Alex as if challenging him. Alex, of course, takes the bait, and walks over slowly, till he’s the one hovering over Miles.

He’s ready to start going again, adrenaline from their performance still in his veins and frustration with the situation fresh in his body, but when he makes eye contact with Miles and sees how hurt he is, he instantly deflates.

“I… Miles, please talk to me,” he says quietly. Much quieter than Miles expected, clearly, if his reaction is anything to go off.

"I'm not interested in your bullshit today, Alex," Miles snaps.

“I didn't mean it, Miles, I - you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then what _did _you mean it like, Alex?” he asks sharply. “What did you mean by saying I need to learn how to behave better in interviews? Am I hurting your image? Do I ruin the carefully crafted façade you’ve made for this year of your life?”

“No, that’s…,” he tries to start, more frustrated than before. “I just meant… I meant, I mean sometimes you come on strong. And that—”

“Oh, I come on too strong,” he snarls. “Well, one of us has to, since you don’t come on at all unless I pull it out of you.”

The heat in Alex’s body seems to release at that, and he raises his eyebrows in challenge, making sure Miles is looking at him as he says his next sentence. “I don’t come on at all?” he asks, a smirk forming on his face. “I’m too passive for your liking?” he continues, sinking onto his knees between Miles’ spread legs on the couch, hands coming to rest on the outside of Miles’ thighs. “How’s this work for you, Miles?”

“Really, Al?” he asks incredulously. “That’s how you’re gonna fix this one?”

“It’s what works best sometimes, innit?” Alex says coyly, reaching for Miles’ zipper tentatively, waiting for Miles to push him away.

He doesn’t. Instead, he curls his fingers around the back of Alex’s neck, and lets him do all the work of pulling his jeans and boxers down. When Alex’s mouth comes to press against the inside of his thigh, it’s much gentler than Miles expected, and it turns him on much more than he expected it to. He’s so _angry_, he’s so frustrated with Alex right now that he wants an outlet for it – and Alex clearly is not yet going to give it to him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers from his spot between Miles’ legs. He bites at Miles’ thigh once and then kisses the spot gently. “You just… you overwhelm me sometimes, you know that?”

Miles gasps when Alex licks a long stripe up the side of his rapidly hardening cock, not giving him a chance to even think of a response to that, bolts of nothing but pure pleasure shooting through his veins as Alex continues. He wraps one hand around the base of Miles’ cock and moves to wrap his mouth around the head, sucking almost harshly in comparison to his gentle touch seconds before. Miles’ hand clamps into Alex’s hair and Alex moans, the vibrations pulling a similar reaction out of Miles.

“Alex,” he rasps when Alex sinks down, swallowing him in a way that makes it look effortless. Miles could never tire of this view. And Alex is right when he says this is what works best sometimes. Sometimes Miles needs Alex to let Miles put him in his place. Alex knows this, and he’s willing to give up control to Miles whenever. It’s hard being on tour with Alex, being put in his shadow near constantly, and Alex knows that more often than not, what Miles needs from him is to be able to be the one running the show for once.

With that in mind, he pops off Miles’ cock, wanking him off slowly as he speaks next. “Miles,” he whispers gruffly as he locks eyes with him. “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

Miles moans, eyes fluttering shut, and takes Alex’s offer with open arms – metaphorically. He thrusts his other hand into Alex’s hair, alternating between tugging on it, pulling it to guide Alex’s head, and curling his fingers around Alex’s neck to hold him in place. Alex takes him as readily and as enthusiastically as always, making Miles come undone faster than he ever does with his girlfriend. Something about the twisted power dynamic Alex is so capable of creating gets him off so much more – having _the _Alex Turner on his knees and demanding to be used as Miles’ personal sex toy sends surges of confidence through him, amplifying his arousal. The noises Alex makes as he chokes wetly and does unspeakable things with his tongue around Miles combine to make Miles feel like his skin is on fire.

“That’s it,” he growls as he lets Alex up to breathe after a few minutes. “Oh, tha’s it, Al.”

Miles comes hotly down his throat, moaning his name plenty loud enough for anyone in the hall to hear, and when they have that interview later, Alex keeps his arm resting on the back of the seat behind Miles in a possessive display, unable to wipe the smug smirk off his face the entire interview.

Sometimes, a blowjob really is what works best.

**~**

**“Try this.”**

Alex, being the hopeless romantic he is, absolutely loves a good wedding. And Matt has put on a great wedding here in the outskirts of Rome, on a beautiful manor in the early summer. Watching his childhood best friend get married, bright smiles on his and his new wife’s face, brings so much joy to him he can’t even begin to fully express it. He wishes Matt and Breana one hundred congratulations when he first gets the chance, his heart warmed as he watches their first dance from a table with Jamie, Nick, Miles, and their partners, surrounded by love and full of feeling.

When the food is served, Alex tries not to notice Taylor watching him and Miles as they interact. He knows she’s not been the happiest with him lately, but he’s so blissed out being around Miles twenty-four seven that he can’t find it in him to be bothered. Which, in turn, only makes her angrier. So he’s been avoiding her a bit, thankful Hannah and Katie are also here so Taylor has them to put her energy into, and Alex can be left to his own devices with Miles.

He feels Taylor’s eyes on him and Miles as they sit too close together, eating away at their meals and chatting. Miles has his arm slung over the back of Alex’s chair, fingers brushing against his shoulder every so often. Miles moans at the taste of his food at one point and Alex tries his hardest to fight the blush that wants to come rushing into his face. Their much more frequent sexual encounters have done the exact opposite of satiate his desire for Miles – he wants Miles now more than ever, and it takes so little to get him in the mood it almost feels unreal.

“Al, you ‘ave to try this,” Miles says as Alex stares at the side of his head. He lifts his fork, complete with a perfectly proportioned bite of his meal, and holds it up towards Alex. Alex quickly realizes this is not going to be even close to a platonic interaction, but he leans into it freely, physically leaning his head in the slightest and parting his lips to indicate to Miles he’s ready for the bite. Miles puts the fork against his mouth and they lock eyes as Alex wraps his lips around the fork, scraping the food back into his mouth and not once losing eye contact with Miles.

Miles’ eyes don’t leave his until after he swallows, at which point they move to Alex’s mouth. “That’s delicious,” Alex says quietly. Miles blinks and then smiles brightly.

“Isn’t it?” he says, turning away quickly and dropping his arm from Alex’s chair to let his hand fall onto his thigh instead. His hand slides from near Alex’s knee slowly up and inwards, till he’s nearly cupping Alex’s cock through his dress pants. Alex is trying so hard not to squirm in his seat, overly aware of Taylor’s presence, but it’s so impossible to ignore Miles’ advances.

And it only gets worse. When the cake comes around a little while and a few glasses of wine later, Alex is sufficiently tipsy, and he wants to give Miles a taste of his own medicine. “Mi,” he says to get Miles’ attention, grabbing at his arm and pulling him out of his conversation with Jamie. “Try this one.”

Miles glances between him and the piece of cake on the end of his fork, eyebrows raising in challenge as he picks up on the look in Alex’s eyes. He swoops in much more eagerly than Alex had, dragging out the moment he bites the cake off the fork and finding immense pleasure in watching how easily Alex melts at the sight.

“Don’t worry, Al,” he whispers into his ear after he’s swallowed. “We can get out of here anytime you want.”

Alex can’t control the blush on his face at that remark, and so he abruptly turns away, desperately trying to get his breathing back under control.

**~**

**“I can carry it.”**

They step into yet another airport, and Alex feels his head spin. Miles arm threaded through his is the only thing keeping him on the ground at this point. After a few months of touring, he’s lost track of what day it is, lost track of where they are, what show they’re going to next, when Taylor is coming to visit, when their next break is, and everything in between. The only thing he’s got firmly locked down in his mind is what Miles is doing at all times – because ninety percent of the time, he’s doing whatever Miles is doing.

Today they seem to be in a rather large airport. As they stroll through security and past the gates Alex remembers they’re in London, on their way to Canada for the second leg of North American shows. That’s right. They’re still in fucking London, and they just left Miles’ flat two hours ago because Miles can’t live without his coffee. Those fucking coffee capsules Alex loves to hate.

Those capsules of which Miles often asks him to carry through airports and that Alex has just started carrying without being asked, partially because he knows Miles will ask and partially because he likes the gesture of carrying Miles’ things for him. Almost as if Miles is his boyfr—

“Al, I can carry them if you want,” Miles offers suddenly when Alex seems to be struggling, slinging his bag over his shoulder so his right hand is free. Alex glares at him with no venom behind it.

“It’s not that heavy,” he snaps lightheartedly, readjusting his hold on the luggage as he refocuses on the world around him. “I’m stronger than I look, Miles.”

“I know you’re plenty fit, babe,” Miles teases, coming up behind him and wrapping that free arm around his waist, making it more difficult for Alex to hold onto his guitar and Miles’ suitcase of coffee as he does. But Alex manages, and leans back into Miles’ embrace. Alex giggles as Miles’ nose brushes his hair away from his ear. “I’m jus’ trying to help,” he whispers into Alex’s ear, heat spreading up Alex’s spine as he does.

“Hey, lovebirds, we’ve got a flight to catch,” Zach calls out from a few feet ahead, snapping Alex out of his Miles-induced haze, and reminding them they’re in a public, very populated airport and are on a very tight schedule. Miles lets go of Alex instantly and grabs the guitar out of his hand, effectively lightening Alex’s load to carry and leaving a blushing smile on his face as he does so.

**~**

**“Be careful.”**

“Okay, but Alex, this time maybe don’t sit on the edge of the balcony,” Miles practically begs, watching Alex dress himself in swim trunks and a white robe, smirking at Miles through his reflection in the mirror. Tonight is yet another night the venue they’re performing in has a balcony perfect for Alex to serenade Miles from, and while Miles adores it, whenever Alex gets himself in a particularly precarious position, it makes Miles’ heart race for all the wrong reasons.

“I’m not going to die, Miles,” he insists, tying the knot and then turning to face Miles who’s sat on the arm of the dressing room sofa. He saunters over and drapes his arms over Miles’ shoulders, smirking even more when Miles pushes his hands into the robe so he can wrap his arms around Alex’s waist.

“I just want you to be careful is all,” Miles says softly, letting his hands start gliding up and down the warm skin of Alex’s back. “You scare me when you start wobbling ten meters up in the air.”

Alex giggles that endearing little laugh of his that Miles never gets sick of hearing, and he can’t help the smile that overtakes his face. “I’m always careful,” Alex says. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Yet here I am,” Miles whispers, pulling Alex even closer to him. Alex starts running his hands firmly over Miles’ clothed chest, pressing against the black fabric and feeling the heat from his skin beneath.

Alex just hums, watching his hands and feeling Miles’ on him for a long moment. “Promise I’ll be extra careful tonight,” he says after a while.

“And you’re going up there in just this?” he asks incredulously. Alex only nods. “Gonna be one hell of a show you put on, Al.”

“That’s the idea,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss Miles teasingly, pulling away after far too little time. “Miles," he practically hums. "You make it impossible to leave these rooms.”

“Yeah?” Miles prompts, always happy for Alex to start praising him in that adoring way of his.

“You smell so nice,” he whispers, his nose pressing into Miles’ hair as his hands slide up to hold the sides of Miles’ neck. Miles hands settle on Alex’s lower back in return, pulling him in as close as possible. “And you’re so warm,” he continues. “and inviting. And all mine.”

With that, Alex’s mouth is back on Miles’, this time much less gently, his tongue pushing past Miles’ lips almost instantly and tasting every corner of his mouth, moaning down his throat. Miles gasps and returns the kiss with just as much enthusiasm, the two of them getting absolutely lost in it. Miles’ hands go back to roaming over Alex’s back, Alex’s cupping the back of his head and locking them into a tight embrace neither of them ever want to break.

It’s only a knock on the door that keeps them from going past the point of no return. It’s Zach, telling them they’ve got to “get their asses on stage right now,” and so they unwillingly disentangle from one another, but not without one last kiss before the show begins.

**~**

**“You were right.”**

Miles finds Alex comfortably back in their hotel room after the show, long after he lost track of him and went out to a club with their band, expecting Alex to be there and confused when Alex didn’t answer any of his messages. He’s instead here, in their Parisian hotel room, spending their last night of the tour seemingly avoiding Miles in favor of staring out the window at the clear sky.

He jumps when he hears the door shut, announcing Miles’ arrival. His face lightens ever so slightly when he recognizes the figure entering the room, and Miles can barely see him in the darkness, but he’s pretty sure Alex has been crying. And that instantly melts away any anger Miles may have previously had towards Alex in regard to his absence all evening.

“Hey,” Alex whispers, raising an arm as if beckoning Miles to come over. Miles goes instantly, sitting pressed against Alex on the hotel’s fancy loveseat that faces the large windows. “Sorry I, er… disappeared back there.”

“Are you okay?” Miles asks, ignoring Alex’s apology. Alex scoffs and wipes a hand over his face, leaning against Miles when his arm goes around Alex’s shoulders.

“I’m just really realizing this is really it,” he whispers, staring out into the city lights. “After this we go back, and the little bubble we’ve been living in pops for good.”

“What’re you on about?” Miles asks. “It’s not like we’ll never see each other again after this, Al—”

“You were right, you know,” Alex says abruptly, lifting his head to look at Miles. “What you said a few weeks ago when we argued. You were right. I do get... weird when Taylor is here. And I like it better when she’s not. And I’m just - I’m trying to come to terms with the fact things won’t be the same after tomorrow.”

Miles just sighs and pinches the bridge of his knows, forever unable to understand why Alex’s mind makes everything out to be the end of the world. “Al,” he begins softly, lowering his hand from his own face to cup Alex’s cheek. “It doesn’t…. _have_ to be like that. We can make things work. It’s not set in stone that just because we’re no longer on tour we can no longer be… whatever we are.”

“I know,” Alex mumbles. “But it just feels… This feels like an end.”

Miles nods curtly, dropping his hand from Alex’s face. Alex instantly reaches for it, twisting their fingers together and pushing at Miles’ rings in a nervous gesture. “I’m going to miss you a lot,” he whispers so quietly Miles barely hears him. “I don’t think anyone’s ever made me even close to as happy as you did these last months.”

Miles’ heart turns into the most pathetic puddle at Alex’s words, and Miles pulls Alex’s face to his so quickly it knocks the wind out of both of them. He’s got Alex on his back beneath him in what feels like seconds, their mouths never detaching as they strip each other of their clothes and run their hands over skin that is warm and familiar and ever so intoxicating. Alex makes an almost whining sound when Miles’ hand comes up to cup his jaw, the heel of his hand pushing his head back, thumb resting on his pulse point as he continues kissing him with an intensity Alex matches effortlessly.

“You’ve no idea how much this tour has meant to me,” he mumbles drunkenly into Alex’s mouth after what feels like hours of deep, mind-consuming kissing. Alex just wraps his arms around Miles’ neck and pulls him back down, signaling that the time for talking has past, and now the only way Alex wants to hear Miles’ feelings is through his hands and his mouth on Alex’s body.

**~**

**“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”**

The last thing Miles expects to be woken by at three in the morning is a phone call from Alex. He’s in London and Alex is in LA, so it’s only… ten? Nine? Six? In the evening where he is, but he knows Alex knows where he is. So whatever has Alex calling, Miles has a feeling it’s not just to chit chat lightly.

He throws his arm onto his bedside table where his phone is ringing that special ringtone he designated for Alex, grabbing it with his eyes closed and pressing accept instantly. “Alex?” he croaks, clearing his throat to sound more coherent before he speaks next. “That you?”

“Miles, hi,” Alex says, sounding breathless and just as groggy as Miles feels. “I’m… hey, I’m sorry to call, I know it’s been a while…”

“Nonsense, Al, it’s been four days,” Miles says, eyes blinking open as he becomes more aware of what’s happening. “I called you on your birthday, remember?”

“Right,” Alex mumbles. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Miles lies instantly. He had been sleeping, albeit very poorly, but he can tell if he tells Alex he woke him it’ll only make him feel like he’s bothering Miles. “I couldn’t sleep. What’s on your mind, Al?”

“Erm,” Alex stammers, and Miles can practically see him fidgeting around. “What time is it?”

“For me?” Miles asks. “Um, let me see… it’s three seventeen. Why?”

“I definitely woke you, Miles,” Alex says.

“Alex, it’s okay,” he insists. “What’s got you calling? Is this a booty call?”

Alex makes a noise that sounds almost like a laugh. “Not exactly,” he says. “It’s only seven for me. Hardly even nighttime.”

“Well if this isn’t a booty call…,” Miles tries to prompt.

Alex groans. “I’m… I’m struggling here, Miles.”

“What d’ya mean?” he asks. He and Alex haven’t been in the best contact lately, partially due to Miles handling his recent breakup quite poorly, and partially due to whatever’s got Alex in such a twist here.

“I’m having writer’s block,” he explains. “There’s just so much pressure…. after AM and all, it just feels like… like what if I can’t come up with anything more? What if I’ve hit my ceiling already? I keep sitting around plucking at my guitar, and absolutely nothing is coming to me. I’ve… I’ve been lockin’ myself in the basement with Taylor’s dog, she keeps getting cross with me for never being in the mood to do anything, but I… I just need to come up with something! I feel so stuck, Miles. And I never felt like that with you, ever.”

“Oh, Al,” he says gently. He feels for Alex, he really does; writer’s block is one of the hardest things to deal with as any kind of writer, and he sympathizes greatly. There is one part of what Alex said that troubles him more than the rest, though. “You haven’t hit your ceiling. You don’t have a ceiling, Alex. Your brain… your mind never stops going, and I’ve no doubt you’ll come up with something even better and weirder than before.”

“I really don’t know, Miles,” he whines. “I have no inspiration. My life feels… it feels so grey, and heavy, like everyone’s waiting on me and I’m stuck behind a veil of fog.”

“Maybe you need to try something new,” Miles suggests. “What about that piano Sara gave you for your birthday? ‘ave you used that any?”

“A little, but I dunno, Mi,” Alex says. “The only song I’ve ever written on a piano was Everything You’ve Come to Expect, and that was the least popular one off the record.”

“Even if that were true, it were always my favorite,” he points out. “Maybe you need to start from a different point. Not with your guitar and your notebook of lyrics you already have like you normally do, but at your piano with a blank page in front of you. You need to let yourself fuck up, Al. You don’t have to write the next big hit on your first go. You don’t have to write the next big hit at all. All that matters is that you’re proud of what you make. Doesn’t matter what the world thinks of it. You’re putting so much pressure on yourself; I can practically see your old man forehead wrinkles.”

“I’m only two months older than you,” he snarls playfully. That warmer tone calms Miles instantly. “But… yeah, you have a point. Maybe I’ll try that. Just… feels weird to start on a piano. Doesn’t feel like it’ll lead to a Monkeys record.”

“Maybe it’s time to rethink what a Monkeys record means then,” Miles says. “Don’t think about what you’re writing for, Al, yeah? Just write something. Anything. You have so much creativity in you.”

Alex grumbles something Miles can’t quite make out. “Thanks,” he murmurs lightly. “Wanna hear somethin' ridiculous?”

“Of course.”

“Well, in my attempts to try and jump start my brain, I started…,” he begins, that drawl of his leaving Miles hanging off his every word. “I’ve become quite familiar with the craft aisle, is what I’ll say.”

Miles laughs. “The craft aisle?” he asks, amused. “You scrapbooking now?”

“No, not like that,” he says. “I’ll send you pictures later. It’s… hm. I dunno. You’ll have to tell me what you think.”

“I’d love nothing more,” Miles says, and then yawns before he can stop himself. “Are you doing alright, Al? Do I need to come visit and pull you out of a funk?”

“I’m never opposed to you visiting,” he answers. “But I’m okay, I s’pose. As okay as I ever am.”

“Alex…”

“Don’t worry about me, Mi,” he continues. “I’ve got Taylor keeping me distracted, and her dog keeping me company, and an exacto knife and plenty of cardboard to keep my hands busy. I’m good, yeah?”

“If you insist,” Miles concedes. “I’m gettin’ tired over here. I’m gonna sleep now, if that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay, Miles,” Alex says, an emotion in his voice Miles can’t quite recognize. “Sleep well. Thanks for listening to me, as always.”

“You know I would anytime, babe,” he says, already beginning to drift off again. “Goodnight, Al.”

“Goodnight, Mi,” Alex says, and promptly hangs up.

Miles falls asleep instantly, very much looking forwards to waking up and finding out what exactly Alex’s strange, cardboard focused art project is.

**~**

**“It reminded me of you.”**

Alex comes bursting through the door.

“Miles?” he calls out as he throws the door shut behind him, winded, kicking his shoes off as he assesses his surroundings. He hears the TV on in the other room; he assumes that’s where Miles is, too absorbed by whatever wrestling match is going on to have heard Alex coming in. Miles is here in the outskirts of Paris, visiting Alex and the rest of his band while they record their sixth album. He’s been passing the time Alex and the others spend recording by idling around the small village, or making himself comfortable in the huge living spaces they’ve been enjoying, staying out of their way so as not to disrupt their progress. Coming “home” to Miles after long days recording like this feels like the most natural thing in the world – Alex has been looking forward to it all day.

“Al,” Miles greets him when he comes into the main room, a bright smile coming across his face as he does so. It fills Alex with so much warmth he has to take a minute to breathe. “Hey – I didn’t think you’d be back till later.”

“Finished early,” he explains. “Hope I’m not disturbing your evening,” he says teasingly as he makes himself comfortable on the couch next to Miles, snuggling into him. Miles’ arm goes around him as if on reflex.

“You’re making my evening,” Miles answers, thumb rubbing circles on Alex’s shoulder. His eyes are back on the TV, where, as Alex expected, a wrestling match is taking place. Miles has gotten deep into wrestling since the end of their Puppets tour together. Alex really has no idea what’s going on, or why Miles finds watching two men pummel each other so entertaining, but he keeps his mouth shut – Miles’ reactions and enthusiasm are so endearing that he would never want to risk losing them by pointing them out.

Just as he thinks about that enthusiasm he loves so much, Miles jumps forward as something happens on the screen, yelling wildly. He accidentally yanks Alex with him, and Alex ends up nearly falling off the couch. “Shit, sorry, Al,” Miles gasps when he realizes what happened.

Alex just waves his hand at him and smirks as leans back into the couch, too amused to possibly be annoyed. “Oh, Miles,” he starts when the match goes to commercials. “I wanted to show you something.”

Miles settles onto the back of the couch with Alex, peering at him with curiosity and adoration in his eyes. “Yeah?” he asks as he watches Alex pull out his phone and start scrolling through it.

“Yeah,” he answers mindlessly as he continues. “It’s right— ah! Here it is! Okay—” he holds his phone closer to Miles so he can see what Alex has for him. It seems to be a video, outdoors, and is that a— “I saw this dog earlier today when we were all out on a break, and… I don’t know, it’s silly, but it reminded me of you.”

“It did?” Miles laughs a bit. Alex just smiles sheepishly, and presses play on the video. The dog in question is wildly energetic, sprinting around in circles with its tongue out, landing flat in front of what appears to be its owner and just gazing up at them with a huge smile across its face. The video itself is a bit of a mess, though, complete with Alex’s thumb covering a tiny bit of the corner, and the angle not very conducive to the full picture of what was happening, but it only makes it more endearing to Miles.

“It was so animated,” Alex explains when the video stops. “And, erm. Bouncy. Happy. It just made me think of you.”

Miles hums warmly and wraps his arm back around Alex. “It’s very cute, too,” Miles points out, leaning in to brush his nose against Alex’s cheek.

“You have that in common,” Alex answers instantly. Miles presses a soft kiss to his jaw and hugs him closer. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mi. I just… I wish you could be with us in the studio. I love Matt and Jamie and Nick, but it’s… it isn’t the same. I got so used to working with you that going back to them is almost hard. Well, it’s not, but I… I guess I miss your infectious energy. The world always seems brighter when you’re with me.”

“You’re too kind to me, Al,” Miles says, his heart fluttering in his chest at Alex’s words.

“No, I’m not,” he refutes. “You’re the kindest person in the world, Miles. I could never be ‘too kind’ to you.”

Miles smiles. “Thank you,” he says softly into Alex’s ear.

“It’s the truth,” Alex says with a smile on his face. “You’re a friendly, lovable golden retriever. It’s impossible not to adore you.”

Miles just giggles and tackles Alex onto his back, hovering over top him and going on to make him forget anything and everything that happened earlier in the day.

**~**

**“You don’t have to ask.”**

“Your hair is so long now,” Alex muses, running his fingers through Miles’ nearly shoulder length hair. Miles rolls to face him, cheek pressed into the pillow as he gazes up at Alex. “Giving me a run for my money here.”

“Yours is far longer than mine,” Miles points out, referencing Alex’s current hairstyle, now much longer than it was a year prior when the Puppets tour ended. Not only his hair, but his new goatee he’s let grow out to an unprecedented length. “And you’ve got this little beard now. It’s quite cute,” he teases, reaching a hand up to drag his fingers over Alex’s chin.

“It’s not supposed to be cute!” Alex huffs, but immediately starts giggling when Miles jumps up to roll him onto his back, their naked bodies once more pressing together. Alex is still sticky beneath him from their previous activities, Miles’ heavy, leopard print duvet over them doing nothing to cool them down.

“Well, it is,” Miles pushes. “Because _you _are. So just by default.”

“Stop calling me cute,” Alex practically whines. Miles smiles brightly and ducks down to kiss the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then the side of his nose, all while running his fingers over Alex’s arms so lightly it drives him insane. He moans weakly, and Miles starts laughing.

“Oh, Alex,” he sighs after a moment, giggles still bubbling in his chest. “You’re so easy.”

Alex grumbles and pushes Miles off him so he can swing his legs over the side of the bed, reveling in the softness of Miles’ sheets for a moment before he stands. Miles watches him as he moves gracefully around the room, finding his boxers off the floor and slipping them on. Miles tuts when he does, coming up to stand behind him and wrap his arms around him, pressing his chest flush to Alex’s back.

“Where are you off to, mister?” he teases, whispering into Alex’s ear as he pretends to be disgruntled at Miles’ hold on him.

“Got a meeting in a bit,” he explains. “Finishing touches on the record, and all that.”

Miles hums, pressing a firm kiss to the nape of Alex’s neck before letting go of him. “Want some food before you go then?” he offers, finding his boxers on the floor and throwing on his favorite robe. He looks back to Alex to find him just staring at Miles, biting his lip, eyes unfocused. “Earth to Alex… you hungry?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says after a moment. “That’d be wonderful.”

Miles gives him a soft smile, and approaches Alex once more to swoop in and press a lingering, slow kiss to his lips that leaves Alex like putty in his hands. The noise Alex makes when Miles pulls back makes his heart soar, especially when Alex opens his eyes and just stares up at him with nothing but adoration in those huge, endless eyes of his.

“Alright, then,” Miles murmurs as he moves to leave the room, but not before he feels Alex’s fingers loosely around his wrist.

“Mi?” he asks, sounding almost shy. “Do you mind… could I borrow one of your new Fred Perry shirts?”

Miles smiles even wider at that, and at the meaning behind it. “You don’t have to ask,” he says, twisting his fingers with Alex’s, unable to control the emotion swirling around in his chest.

Alex blushes and ducks his head, turning away to dig around Miles’ dresser for his favorite of Miles’ shirts – the one Miles wears most often, and that smells the strongest of his cologne – willfully ignoring the butterflies in his stomach as he tugs it over his head, the sounds of Miles making him dinner filling his ears.

**~**

**“I was just thinking about you.”**

“Miles,” Alex drawls as he answers the phone, slipping away from the crowded after party he’s in attendance to in order to hear him better. “I was just thinking about you.”

Alex can practically feel Miles blushing over the phone. “Me?” he laughs. “What were we doin’?” he asks in that Scouse cadence that always gets Alex’s blood racing.

“Not in the mood to talk dirty right now,” Alex grumbles, locking the bathroom door shut behind him. “I’m at a party. Glad you called, is all I was trying to say.”

“Later, then,” Miles says, making Alex laugh lightly. “I was just callin’ to congratulate you. Saw you had an excellent first show.”

“Thanks,” Alex says warmly. “Excellent first, second, third, and fourth. Performed in a cemetery tonight. Didn’t think I’d ever be able to say that.”

“A cemetery?” Miles asks, amusement in his voice. “That sounds fun. Glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Yeah, well,” Alex mumbles. “I was just thinking about how I wish it were you and I on tour again. I’m already tired, and it’s not even been two weeks yet.”

Miles doesn’t say anything for a moment. “It’ll be us on tour again soon,” Miles assures him. “Plus, I’m doin’ a couple shows with you in July, am I not?”

“You are,” Alex smiles. “I’m very much looking forwards to those.”

“Me too,” Miles says. Alex can hear the smile in his voice.

“I don’t things are gonna last with Taylor,” he says suddenly. He regrets it instantly – him and Miles rarely talk about their relationship problems, as a bit of an unspoken agreement out of fear of making the other jealous, or uncomfortable, even though neither would ever say it. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“You can always talk to me, Al,” Miles says. “What’s going on? Thought things were peachy between the two of you.”

“They’re… I mean, it’s fine,” he stumbles. “She’s done nowt. I feel bad, honestly. I just… she keeps takin’ bout kids, and it petrifies me, Miles. She wants things I’m not ready for, and I don’t want to waste her time.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t think you’re wasting her time, Al,” he says after a moment. “But I understand.”

Alex doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really know what to say after telling Miles he’s thinking about breaking up with his girlfriend of three years for little reason. It always surprises him when Miles is so kind to him like this, and when Miles makes it so clear how much he supports and cares for Alex. After all this time he’s still not used to it.

“When are you going back on tour?” Alex asks, changing the direction of their conversation. “Will I be able to see you before July?”

Miles laughs. “I’ll make sure of it,” he promises. He goes on to tell Alex about his upcoming tour plans, voice seeping into his veins and filling his head with images of him sweaty on stage, making Alex rethink his earlier statement about not being in the mood for phone sex.

**~**

**“I’ll still be here when you’re ready.”**

They find themselves on the beach, long after their show together, but not long enough for the feeling of Miles’ hand in his hair to have faded away. The breeze is blowing through his hair presently, the salt of the sea licking at his face, the warmth of Miles’ beside him keeping him grounded. They had their second and last show together tonight, here in Greece, and now they’re here, on a beach, eerily reminiscent of their time in Malibu.

_“Al,” Miles said softly into his ear as they left stage together. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, later, when you have the chance.”_

The words ring in Alex’s ears now, hours later, now that they have the chance to talk. It seems like it’s been a while since they’ve been in a situation like this, where it’s just the two of them, in person, sober and alert, and with all the time in the world to talk. It makes Alex nervous, almost. Miles has his hands planted in the sand, one behind Alex and one behind himself. Alex is staring at him, waiting for him to speak.

“Miles?” he prompts when he feels it’s been too long. “What… wha’ is it?”

Miles sighs, tilts his head back, and closes his eyes. “I need to tell you something,” he starts, carefully, like he’s chosen every word beforehand. “But I’m nervous about how you’ll respond.”

“Miles, you can tell me—”

“I know,” he interrupts before Alex can finish. “But this isn’t just anything.”

Alex shuts his mouth, biting his tongue as he watches Miles nervously and waits for him to continue. When he does, it nearly knocks all the life out of him.

“I’m in love with you,” he says quietly, now making direct eye contact with him, eyes wide and molten as they settle on Alex’s. “And I want us to be together.”

It feels like the whole world stops with those words. Alex has no idea what expression is presently on his face as a million thoughts start racing through his head. He’d be telling himself a bold-faced lie if he tried to pretend he didn’t already at least somewhat know Miles was in love with him, but the wanting them to be together? That’s new. And that’s something Alex has never let himself think about. They’ve always been more than “just best friends,” but their relationship was best defined by being left undefined. And they both knew that. Up until seconds ago, Alex thought they had both been fine with it. But if Miles isn’t, and Miles wants to be with him, where does that leave them? What does Alex feel here?

“I broke up with Taylor,” is what he says back, not breaking their loaded eye contact for a second. Miles’ eyes seem to widen a bit, but then Alex keeps going. “I – I mean, I… I don’t know why I said that. It’s not what I should’ve said.”

Miles exhales and then looks away from Alex and at the waves crashing on the shore for a long moment. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says softly. “I know this is a lot to tell you. I… I want you to be happy, Al. And I want you to know I’d do absolutely anything for you, and that you’re the only person I ever think about anymore.”

“Miles…,” he says so quietly he barely even hears himself. “I… I don’t think… I’m not ready for—”

Miles nods, stopping him in his tracks. “That’s okay,” he ensures him, a gentleness in his voice Alex has never heard before. “I’ll still be here when you’re ready. And if you never are, that’s okay, too. This isn't... it's not an ultimatum. I'm not going anywhere. I just need you to know, yeah?”

Alex nods once and bites his lip, feeling something uncomfortably close to tears welling up in his eyes. There’s a heaviness in his chest he can’t explain, an endless stream of consciousness that feels like it’s just broken through a floodwall drowning his mind. Miles may as well have screamed the words at Alex the way it feels like they’ve cut into him so deeply.

They don’t talk much after that monumental revalation in their relationship, instead sitting in silence together, watching the waves and getting lost in their own heads, but still keenly aware of the other’s presence. When Miles walks Alex back to his hotel, Miles cups his face and leaves him with the most tender kiss Alex has ever received, causing his legs turn to jelly, and the world to start spinning around him again.

**~**

**“Come here, let me fix it.”**

Alex has a new girlfriend.

Much to Miles’ dismay. Miles can tell not all is well in paradise, though, by the look on Alex’s face when they’re together, the shaved head he’s not fond of, the guarded expressions and the dead eyes. Miles worries it’s because of what he said six months ago on that beach in Greece, and worries he fucked up their relationship beyond repair by being unable to contain his own, selfish desires any longer. They’re still friends – that will never change – but it’s been… tense. Awkward. Strained. Weird. Miles doesn’t like this new girl, Louise, or whatever, and he doesn’t like what seems to be happening to Alex.

He invited Alex to his London show, honestly not expecting him to come, but he came. And he’s here now. He chose Miles’ show over his girlfriend’s show in France the very same night, choosing to sit in Miles’ dressing room and watch quietly as he dresses in his tracksuit and starts working on his makeup. They haven’t talked much, but Miles has to admit he’s very glad Alex is here. He always feels more confident performing knowing Alex is watching. And he still loves Alex. Every word of what he said in Greece is still true. He wants Alex to be his, and having him here, sans his girlfriend, makes it easy to forget that he’s not.

“Miles?” Alex says unexpectedly, in an uncertain, hesitant voice. He startles Miles, who jumps in response and accidentally draws a sharp, black line up the corner of his eye.

“Shit,” he swears under his breath. Having Alex around lately is like being haunted by a ghost – he’s silent and invisible most of the time, appearing in the worst moments and startling Miles out of his peace of mind.

“Oh – sorry,” Alex apologizes when he sees what happened, coming up behind Miles, whose standing in front of the bright dressing room mirror.

“It’s fine,” Miles says, rubbing at his eye frustratedly, trying to wipe away the black smudge he doesn’t want to be there. He’s suddenly furious; angry at what just occurred, angry at Alex for being here, angry at himself for being so stupid as to think Alex would ever reciprocate his feelings. He finds himself overcome with the urge to just snap the eyeliner pencil in half and start shouting in Alex’s face.

“Wait,” Alex says, snapping him out of his thoughts. “C’mere. Let me fix it.”

“Alex, you don’t know shit about eyeliner,” Miles says, trying not to laugh. Alex furrows his eyebrows and pouts a bit, a familiar expression that makes him look younger and more like himself. More like the Alex Miles knows and loves.

“I want to help,” he offers again. Miles sighs, trying to exhale the anger out of his body, and turns to face him with the pencil in his outstretched hand. Alex studies his face for a moment and then guides him by the shoulders to sit in the chair he’s been ignoring this whole time, turning away to dig through Miles’ things for a cotton swab and makeup remover. He turns back with the wet cotton swab between his fingers, cupping Miles’ chin with his free hand to steady his head, leaning in to gently wipe away the black eyeliner that’s where it’s not meant to be.

It’s been so long since he’s been this close to Miles. He’s been foolishly distracting himself with Louise and isolating himself from Miles, unable to handle Miles’ confession from months prior and spiraling in his desperate attempts to ignore what he knows he’s feeling. It scares him, how much he feels for Miles. It scares him how much he wants to be with Miles, and how he would be unable to cope if it ever ended. In these past few months, that fear has all but consumed him, eating away at every positive emotion in his body and leaving a ringing hollowness he can’t shake himself out of. But right now, with Miles’ face between his hands, trusting him with this strangely intimate task, he feels alive for the first time in… a while. Maybe since that night in Greece.

The subtle shifts in Miles’ features as Alex cleans his eyelid and then goes back with the eyeliner pencil hypnotize Alex, and he’s suddenly hit with a wave of calm. All this time, he’s been trying to deny the gravity of his feelings for Miles, trying to fill the void he’s created by pushing Miles away with a woman he doesn’t love, and it’s been working terribly. Right here, right now, with Miles so close, and no longer so far, he feels everything he could ever want within his grasp, and he feels like if he doesn’t accept it right now, the opportunity Miles is giving him will slip through his fingers, leaving him to forever regret it.

The pencil stops moving against Miles’ eye as Alex stands there, unmoving, lost in thought, prompting Miles to crack his other eye open and stare up at Alex in question. Alex is looking down at him with huge ocean eyes, immediately putting a halt to anything Miles was going to say.

“Miles,” Alex breathes. They watch each other in silence for a small eternity, and then Alex drops the pencil straight to the ground, cupping Miles’ face with both hands now, and firmly presses his mouth to Miles’, his heart fluttering when Miles gasps into it and immediately kisses him back.

And during the show, when Miles dedicates Wrong Side of Life to him, that same wave of calm comes over him, and that’s how he knows he’s finally ready.

**~**

**“I’m proud of you.”**

Miles bounces off the stage and right into Alex’s arms, clad in a black tank top with his own initials in hot pink and purple and tight black jeans that make Alex’s mouth run dry. Miles has just opened for him and the Monkeys here in Mexico, giving them the chance to have one more show together, and it’s very different this time than it was nearly nine months back in July.

For starters, this time, Alex isn’t single – no, this time, he’s with Miles, truly _with _Miles at long last. He’s with the person who’s always made him the happiest and who he’s always loved with his entire heart; he just hasn’t known it and hadn’t been ready to accept it. But he’s so past ready now. And he’s so glad he’s ready. He’s never been so happy, so enthralled by another person, and so utterly content with the future laid out in front of him.

“You’re amazing,” Alex whispers into Miles’ ear as they hug, Miles’ sweaty body heating Alex’s.

“Thanks very much, my love,” Miles whispers back, kissing Alex’s cheek and then letting go of him, only to wrap an arm around his shoulders and drag him back into the green room with the rest of the Monkeys and Miles’ band.

“It’s always an honor to have you open,” Alex tells him as they walk. “You do so well on stage, Mi. You thrive up there. People are gonna be disappointed when we come out there as the main act now.”

“Nonsense, Al,” he says. They sink onto an empty sofa, curling into each other immediately. No one even bats an eye – everyone’s already used to them behaving this way from when they were simply friends, and now that they’re together, it’s beyond expected of the two of them to continue existing in their own world, oblivious to everything else. “Everyone’s here to see you lads. It’s your show.”

Alex is silent for a moment. Miles glances down to catch his eye, and when he does, he finds nothing but warmth where there previously had been emptiness and the dark vestiges of depression. “I’m proud of you,” Alex murmurs so heartfelt and meaningfully that Miles almost can’t physically bear it. “I’m proud to be with you.”

Miles smiles so widely it hurts, hardly able to control himself anymore. He says nothing, and just pulls Alex in, kissing him fiercely and hoping he’s conveying his identical sentiments through the kiss.

**~**

**“I love you.”**

It feels very much like the night they first met.

It’s a late summer London evening, and Alex is hiding in the alleyway behind the bar, looking to escape the noise and all the people he only vaguely knows vying for his attention. The door screeches open beside him, making him drop the cigarette he had between his fingers, and he glances up to see none other than Miles, _his_ Miles, letting the door slam shut as he approaches Alex.

“I was lookin’ for you,” he says with a smile, crowding Alex against the brick wall. “I should’ve known you’d be out here, though. Hidin’ in the shadows.”

Alex smirks and throws his arms around Miles’ neck. “Well,” he starts coyly, “you seem to have found me just fine.”

“Mmm, I guess I did,” he hums, leaning in to kiss Alex, hands falling to his hips. He pulls back only to breathe, staying as close to Alex’s face as possible. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way. You’ve got this… glow, about you.”

“I’m just really happy,” Alex answers simply, that dazed look in his eye he always has when he looks at Miles. The look of love, one would likely say. It’s clearly the best response Alex could’ve possibly given, as Miles kisses him again, this time much more ardently. Miles’ hands slide beneath the hem of his shirt to trace delicately over the small of his back, sending shivers up his spine, at the same time he deepens the kiss, overwhelming Alex so fast his legs nearly give out.

“You wanna head home, my happy little diamond?” Miles practically purrs against his mouth after a moment of making Alex lose his ability to think. Alex nods furiously, smiling against Miles’ lips, and lets the obnoxious pet name slip right by, too distracted by how Miles is making him feel to be bothered. Miles bestows one more kiss to his jaw before stepping back and taking Alex’s hands.

As they stand on the pavement waiting for a cab, Alex leans against Miles’ shoulder, turning his head to press his nose into the fabric of his shirt and inhaling deeply. Miles smiles, but says nothing, and just wraps his arm securely around Alex’s waist.

“I love you,” Alex whispers, nearly overwhelmed by the truth of his own words. It’s not like he’s never said them before – rather the opposite, he’s said them more times than he can count, and in more ways than he can possibly imagine – but every time, he is so overcome with the emotion behind them it sweeps over him and threatens to consume him in the best possible way.

And when Miles, every time, responds in turn, he sees the same sentiment in Miles’ eyes, and nearly forgets how to breathe.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :) i spent forever writing and rewriting and editing this so i hope you liked it
> 
> validate me pls


End file.
